


The Art of Leaning

by sadsparties



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Funny, Gen, Leaning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsparties/pseuds/sadsparties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac attempts to master Bossuet's sensual lean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Leaning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PilferingApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilferingApples/gifts).



> Written for tumblr's "Les Mis Trick or Treat" exchange.

“Permit me to clarify precisely. You are… lying?

“I am laying, my Enjolras. _Laying._ Our dear eagle is quite proficient in it, and having seen its effects in person, I have endeavored to master the skill.”

Courfeyrac turned away from Enjolras thinking that he had made a perfectly good explanation for what had gone on in the Musain, meaning to say, a perfectly good explanation for a burned sleeve, a toppled lamp, a near apoplectic Fricassee, and a Bossuet doubled over in laughter. 

“No, no, my friend,” Bossuet said to a Courfeyrac bracing himself against a tabletop, “you must ease into it gently, as if reclining in an old chair after a day’s worth of listening to legal drivel.”

Bossuet said this as he settled himself in a stool, his right hand taking liberty at the mug of coffee that Joly had left at the table beside him. He took a sip, looked behind his shoulder to gauge the distance from his stool to a post, and leaned.

It was an innocent gesture. His left leg stretched and spread; his right bent at the knee. His right elbow found purchase somewhat on a platform behind him, and his free left hand lingered suggestively between his thighs. He looked the picture of a man at ease at his own home, or at the company of his friends, or at the presence of a lady who was about to be thoroughly ravished.

Courfeyrac found it most unfair.

“It is most unfair,” he said, though his voice was filled only with amiable perplexity. “Here I am taking up supreme efforts in making myself charming. I do my due diligence with my shoes, my cane, my beloved hat, and there you are with your thin coat and your bare head, and all you have to do to achieve the same effect is to… to–” Courfeyrac’s hands grasped at the air for an appropriate word, “–recline!”

Bossuet grinned at the rim of his coffee. “You know, Courfeyrac,” he drawled with an amused smirk, “your words would have met their mark had you not delivered them whilst singing the end of your tailcoat.”

There erupted a strangled cry, followed by laughter.


End file.
